


When Gallifreyan Eyes Are Smiling

by jer832



Series: (Holidays) If Time has no straight lines, history must be a gag reel [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Biology, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, Innuendo, Stand Alone, gallifreyan biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jer832/pseuds/jer832
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Would ye go out on a limb for me, Donna?" he asked, silly and full of Guinness and feeling nothing like the well-behaved asexual alien he was, theoretically, supposed to be.<br/>"Sure, what's a limb among best friends," Donna replied, stretching a leg to plant her foot against the Doctor's chest.<br/>"If we were in dire straits, Donna, would you be willing to go out on two limbs for me?"<br/>"Are we in dire straits, Doctor?"<br/>"We may well be at last, Donna Noble," he said soberly, twisting a long finger into the emerald cord of Donna's knickers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a stand-alone story that follows the events in "My Funny Valentine". 
> 
> The action takes place sometime after "The Sontaran Stratagem". The Doctor's alien reproductive physiology (how's that for a cool euphemism?) was inspired by the brilliant work of milieva, whose fiction appears in livejournal
> 
> For beachy_geek who asked for St. Patrick's Day Celtic smut.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want to give you pleasure, Donna Noble," the Doctor said softly. "I want to make you scream."
> 
> * * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

  
“Donna, m’lovely ginger-tressed lass, is there a wee bit o’ th’ Irish in ya?”

Donna took another long satisfying swig of Guinness, licked a thin moustache of creamy bubbles off her upper lip, and saluted the Doctor with her half-empty pint glass. “ _More’n a wee bit m’Laird. Canya say th’same of ye’self?”_

The Doctor’s eyebrows rose. Always one for the challenge, he downed what was left of his own, filled his glass again and downed it again. Kicking off his trainers, lobbing his coat, suit jacket and tie in the general direction of the coat rack, he sat back on the keg with a big smug grin.

Their latest adventure had been very much more of a barney than usual, and for the last two hours the Doctor and Donna Noble had been celebrating being back in the TARDIS, being in one piece, being fast enough and jammy enough to be able to celebrate, being able to breathe once more without undependable breathing masks and the sting of HCl, being… well anything that involved still being alive and breathing, actually. Ergo the keg. _Ergo_ \-- oh the Doctor liked that word, the way it rolled around his tongue and over his teeth. He could draw out the **r** — _errrgo_ – then maybe play the **e** like a soft **a** – _aerrrgo_ –or maybe he’d get another keg out of the TARDIS’s stores. (Once they’d realized their lifestyle was better suited to kegs than bottles, no matter how cute or unbreakable the bottle, they’d gone to stock up in Ireland–the country not the star system; some things the TARDIS refused to replicate.)

 

**~~~~~**

 

“ _Would ye lic a wee bit moar o’th’ brew, gaerrl_?” the Doctor inquired, tapping into the second keg and an accent he _larned_ from Liam Clancy.

 _Aye, m’Laird o’Time, I’d lic a wee bit moar_.”

“ _An would ye lic a wee bit o’ anythin’ else?_ ” He winked at Donna.

Donna raised an eyebrow. “A wee bit?”

“Well.” The Laird o’ Time grinned, and his dimples and his eyes and the freckles that hopscotched across his  youthful, handsome face danced for Donna Noble. “Maybe quite a lot.”

The Doctor and Donna were happy but not drunk. Superior Gallifreyan metabolism and a stubbornly inescapable remnant of mind-numbingly asinine Time Lord propriety guaranteed that the Doctor would never become addled by the hops. Donna Noble, as Donna Noble was wont to do, was easily holding her own. And since Valentine’s Day, the Laird o’ Time thought with a smirk and a frisson of panic, Donna Noble was ready to hold his own as well.

“They say I’ve kissed the Blarney Stone.” He pulled on his ear. “That was, oh in my third body, I b’lieve.

“Kissed it!” Donna snorted, as she kicked off her shoes and draped herself comfortably across the jump seat. “Sunshine, I’d say you sucked it dry, rolled it around your tonsils, swallowed it into your second stomach and upchucked it back into your gullet for another go ‘round…. If I had to go out on a limb, that is.”   She batted her eyes at the Time Lord.

“Would you, Donna Noble?” The Doctor asked wistfully.

“Would I what?”

“Go out on a limb?”

Donna peered around the console room. “Don’t see one hereabouts. ‘Sides, don’t need to: the keg is just over there.”  She gestured with her foot.

“Ah.” He pulled Donna down to the floor with him, topped off their pints, and sat on the floor with his Donna, his bestest friend ever, on the floor.

“Ye’re a _bonnie_ lass, Donna Noble, the queen of my–well if I had a castle you’d be its queen, but I don’t so you can be the queen of my TARDIS, which is so much better.” He laughed. “ Or you can just be its Donna.”

“Just _Donna_?” the woman asked him. She jumped up (thereby proving her lack of insobriety) and stood (well swayed at bit, but just a bit) fuming down at him. “ _JUST_ Donna!” she inflected differently and much affrontedly at the Laird o’ Time.

“No; never **JUST** Donna,” he clarified with whisper and roar, “just BE!  Be…like Sartre: doing is being.” The Doctor scratched his head. “Or being is doing? I always get him and that Rexplec 5 philosopher mixed up, but I know it definitely has something to do with doing: what’s doing who…who’s doing what.” Dragging his hands through his hair, he shook his head. “Rassilon, the things you do to me, Donna Noble.”

The Doctor bit the inside of his bloody big gob and looked away. Suddenly it seemed like a good time for some misdirection rambling. And more than a wee bit o’ metabolizing.

“Bloody stubborn arse he was, Sartre, I always told him, Jean-Paul I said, we were on first name basis, I called him Jean-Paul and he called me Doctor…”

 

**~~~~~**

 

“Ok.” Donna called down to the Doctor from her perch atop the back of the jump seat.

“Oi Donna?” He called up from the floor.

“Oi yourself; you brought it up.”

“Oh?” He looked down the length of his lean body. “Nope,” he said, popping his p. That part of him was behaving itself, just like the well-behaved, possibly non-existent member of the theoretically asexual alien that he was supposed to be. Bollocks.

“I’ve followed you to other worlds, other dimensions, other universes. I’ve been nearly sliced, diced, and deep-fried. I’d die for you, spaceman!” Donna chewed her lip. “Kinda think I have?” She shrugged; sometimes when she'd been drinking, there was a prickling déjà vu just out of reach. “You’re my doc in a storm, my storm in a doc, my doc in my box.”

The Doctor rolled up and peered at her “I am cutting you off, Donna Noble,” he sniffed. You are free-associating, and we do not know where or whence t’will lead ye.”

“Oi! I never cut you off when you free associate, which is most every time you open your gob, you cheeky little alien, and it always leads to danger and trouble.”

“And adventure!”

Donna snorted. “And a TARDIS load of blarney out of you. So, ok.”

“Ok? Oh, yes. Limb.”

“Yeah, sure, why not. What’s a limb among best friends?”  Donna swung her left leg and thrumped her foot onto the Doctor’s right shoulder.

It was an aesthetically sublime limb, attached to a lovely foot that terminated in five brilliant Donna Noble toes.  The toenails, like Donna's fingernails and lips, were painted a light shade of ginger, a little more golden caramel than her hair, and a band of tiny emeralds circled her big toe. Donna Noble’s limb was pure perfection. Well, the Doctor wasn’t an expert on women’s limbs, but he was sure that if he were, he would pronounce Donna Noble’s limb pure perfection. “Is this the limb you’ll go out on, Donna Noble?” he grinned.

“Unless you’d rather have this one.”

Donna’s right foot appeared on the Doctor’s left shoulder, and as his very clever and strong and limber best friend held herself up on the back of the jump seat by her arms, the Time Lord slipped his glasses on, pushed her Kelly green, mocha cream, and banana yellow linen sun dress out of the way, and studied them both closely. Long and shapely they were, well-toned, flower petal smooth and creamy, and decorated at their joining by a wee diaphanous triangle of sea foam green on bits of  emerald-hued cord.

“Bit of a dilemma, here, Donna Noble; can’t rightly choose between.”

“The right knee has a dimple,” she supplied helpfully, and planted the flat of her foot on the Doctor’s chest to show off said body part.

“But your left foot has the toe ring.”

The Doctor’s open, tieless collar gave Donna easy access to his naked throat and the beckoning provinces beyond. She heeded the siren call of space and Time Lord and walked on the wild side of companionship.  The Doctor caught Donna's foot as it was creeping past his collar and in.  He brushed his thumb around the emerald ring and over her ginger painted toes.  "If we were in dire straits, would you be willing to go out on two limbs for me?" he inquired of her softly.  

“Are we in dire straits, Doctor?”

“We may well be at last, Donna Noble,” he said soberly, twisting a long forefinger into the emerald cord of her knickers.

Donna cocked her head and studied the Doctor. He was staring at her through dark-rimmed glasses and intense, darkly burning but tender eyes.

“Yes,” Donna said, with a calm, unwavering certainty.

Donna’s feet learned the Doctor’s long, lean body. Her right foot amused itself with his chest, teasing his nipples to come out and play. Her left foot moved lower. An emerald-girded toe slid along his fly, back and forth, with an intent flexing that ground the stones along a growing hardness. “These limbs ok for your straits?” she asked huskily.

“Mmmm.”   He  eased Donna down from the jump seat by her ankles. Her body followed his to the floor and she kneeled over him, straddling his narrow hips.

His shirt had gotten itself loose, and Donna’s fingers took advantage, whispering over the expanse of skin visible beneath his navel. He yelped; it had been a while since he’d been touched, not counting the times he’d been beaten or tortured or when a companion had touched him for normal, routine stuff like bandaging, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, removing a noose, restarting a heart, though that latter was usually not gentle and he was babbling to himself so he vowed that now that he’d finally had the guts to make the _invitation_ in this game of human skills, and Donna her _in_ _terception_ and _riposte_ , he’d enjoy himself through the ensuing _thrusts_ of his _foil_ to her _coulés_ , to his final _coup lancé_ in their forthcoming brilliant _corps-à-corps_.  (Oh, that was very clever!  He'd have to tell Donna when she wasn't busy; she appreciates a good metapho--)  "Donna!!  I prefer that remain attached to my chest."

Donna’s fingers pirouetted over the Doctor’s chest, circling but not touching his nipples, and continued up his long, pale throat. She teased the hairs on the back of his neck and stroked around the shells of his ears before scratching lightly over his scalp, through his meticulous disarray of lush gravity-defying alien hair. She leaned over him, resting her elbows on his chest, and ghosted the backs of her index and middle fingers over his temples, down his cheeks and up his jaw to the back of his neck. When they found their way back to his ears, she stroked and pinched gently. “Or maybe these limbs?”

The Doctor caught Donna’s hands, lowered them to his lips, kissing her knuckles then her wrists then her palms. “These would do very nicely, Donna Noble.”

He released her hands and they returned to the business of caressing the Doctor’s face. The Time Lord closed his eyes and purred.

“Will you go out on a limb for me, Doctor?” Donna whispered close to his ear.

“Any particular one, Donna Noble?”

“Oi, you figure it out, genius boy; you keep telling me you’ve got this enormous–”

The Doctor’s eyes popped open.

“Time Lord brain.”

“Ah. As you wish.”

The Doctor slid his palms under Donna’s dress and cupped her tight Donna Noble bum.

“Not a limb, Doctor,” Donna pointed out.

“I know; I’m just not there yet.” The Doctor began to sing an old folksong, rolling the words around his tongue and teeth, plaiting a Scottish burr through them. They flowed like thick dark stout past his soft, kissable lips.

“ _O ye’ll take the high road_ ,” he sang.

“That’s Scottish. Shouldn’t it be an Irish song?”

“Hush! You make me have to start over,” he pouted, but his eyes were smiling. “ _O ye’ll take the high road_ ,” he sang, rolling up for a nibble at the taut little nubs poking so fetchingly against the thin material of Donna’s dress.

Donna sighed. “I’ve always loved that song!”

“ _I’ll take the low road_ _–_ ”  His thumbs languorously followed the narrow path of emerald green cord around Donna’s bum, over her hips, along the join of her thighs and the gentle rise to her stomach. Donna sighed again, then gasped and moaned as the low road took the Doctor’s thumbs inside her thong.

“ _Begorrah_ , Donna! I’ve found your pot of gold!”

“Oi, alien boy!” Donna tried to look outraged. “If you don’t stop the crappy seduction and finally make love to me, I may just go back and see if nancy boy’s mouth can do more than insult old school chums–“

The Doctor dragged Donna down beneath him. “Donna Noble,” he growled, his dark eyes flashing, “I have always bested the Master at his worst. I am sure you will find that any method of torture I devise would be far more impressive than anything he could come up with.”

His brilliant Donna had attired herself in a lightweight body-skimming sundress that buttoned all the way from its sweetheart neckline to the hem of the full skirt. Access to her treasures could not have been easier if she were the fortress of a cyberman and he had his sonic screwdriver on its strongest resonating setting and appropriate as that metaphor might be, he decided to keep it to himself as well. As he hummed Loch Lomond, the Doctor’s fingers roamed the soft hillocks of the human woman’s hips and belly, played along the valleys between her ribs, then continued north.

“Oh, Donna Noble!’ he exclaimed loudly, with a great delight.

“I wanted to make up for Valentine’s Day,” she admitted, almost shyly. “Is it ok?”

“Ok? It’s brilliant! It’s–“ the Doctor pulled a beloved word out of his memory. “–it’s fantastic!”

“Thought you might like it.” Donna smirked at her Time Lord. “Erin go braless.”

“I want to give you pleasure, Donna Noble,” the Doctor said softly. He kissed Donna’s eyelids, nuzzled an ear and nipped at it gently, then feasted his way down her neck, stopping at the pulse point in the hollow of her throat to taste her warmth and breathe her fragrance. “I want to make you scream.”

Donna cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me this isn’t just a TARDIS load of blarney.”

“Nay, fair lass,” he replied. He cocked an eyebrow back at her. “Danger and trouble and adventure.”

“God, I hope so!",

 

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=45720>


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you going to undo every one of my buttons like that?"  
> "This is my present, Donna Noble, and I shall open it the way I choose."

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

  
The Doctor eased open the top button of Donna's dress. He whispered a fingertip over newly revealed Donna Noble skin. And then, leaning close, his eyes never giving up hers, his lips.  Once.  Twice.       
  
Donna's hands came up to caress the Doctor's face.  “Are you going to undo every one of my buttons like that?”  
  
“This is my present, Donna Noble, and I shall open it the way I choose.”  
  
Three more buttons and they were completely open to him, his Donna’s breasts: her deliciously creamy globes; the passion-darkened full moons of her areolas; her nipples, firm proof of her desire for him, erect and pert, not quite so dusky as the areolas, warmer in tone, quite tasty he was sure, rather like an early berry, rosy and golden and…  
  
The Time Lord laughed like a human, full of naïve wonder. “Oh, Donna, they match!” He raised one of Donna’s hands to his lips and kissed each delicate ginger-tipped digit. And then he kissed one gingery nipple. “You clever thing, you,” he whispered to it, “you match.” He twirled his tongue around the firm little nugget. Donna gasped and shivered.  
  
“Cold, Donna Noble?” he asked. She shook her head. “Good.” His voice was husky and low, full of dark promise, and dangerous. He leaned in for another taste of her, a long, slow, cool stroke of his tongue around the inside fullness of each breast. Donna shivered again. He ghosted a knuckle over the areolas and nipples, caressed and kneaded the full mounds, and tested their heft. Donna’s breasts were the perfect size: voluptuous, they filled his large hands, still he was sure he could easily reach the lovely little pebbles.    
  
Could he convince his Donna to squeal?  
  
Donna suddenly yelped, then moaned.  
  
Ah. An added bonus.  
  
The Doctor’s fingers made fast work of opening the rest of Donna’s buttons; thereafter followed his lips and tongue.  He caressed and tasted each newly revealed centimeter of her human-flavoured skin until the final button was undone and yards of skirt were pushed aside. Taking his time, he explored Donna Noble, from the hollow of her throat to her pelvis. His fingertips journeyed down her body, pausing long enough to flirt with her lovely breasts, then glided over the subtle contours of her abdomen and belly.  Donna called herself fat; he’d have to disallow her of that. (Perhaps when he came back later,  he'd show her there was not much meat to nibble, but such lovely, easily discernible ribs to lick and didn't that sound rather cannibalistic, although taken as a metaphor the possibilities could make timelines dance.)  
  
He thought, for a moment, to detour a finger into her navel but changed his mind. Donna’s sharp intake of breath, followed by a not very successful attempt to cover up a moan, assured the Doctor that yes, his tongue was indeed better suited to that little escapade.  His fingers learned the hard angles of her pelvic bones and the sensual curves of her hips and bum. This human woman was as exciting to his fingertips as to his eyes.    
  
Donna Noble excited all his senses.  
  
How interesting the human body was; quite efficient, considering. The skin was silky and elastic, soft yet protecting, and far warmer than he’d been used to when he was young. The bones were strong and the systems, on the whole, functioned well and capably.  A human woman was a complex combination, firm and strong yet soft, and yielding at will. The Time Lord laughed to himself; the only way one could ever use the words ‘yielding’ and ‘Donna’ together, one would have to include the phrase ‘at will’.  
  
His thumbs stroked little circles in the join of Donna’s legs and body, following the emerald cord from her hips to the delightful little bit of sea foam. Donna’s breath hitched and her eyelids involuntarily flickered as her thighs slipped open. His fingers followed the curves of her leg down, and they must have found every nerve ending in every delightfully sensitive human cell; she was visibly trembling by the time he reached her foot. A finger flicked across her ginger-painted nails then circled the emerald toe ring.  
  
The Time Lord sat back onto his knees and solemnly looked down at the Earth woman, his eyes black and fathomless, unsmiling, his face the expressionless mask of the observer, the outsider. Unmoved and unmoving, he regarded the human. Donna looked into his eyes and saw no contact to be made, no connection to keep. She looked away uneasily. This was not her Doctor.  
  
“Donna Noble.” The alien’s voice compelled her back. Whoever.. no, whatever he was, this was still the skinny streak of nothing who destroyed the Racnos without remorse but went back to save an insignificant family just because she had asked…who miraculously returned to Earth and gave a nothing temp from Chiswick all of time and space, and whatever he could of himself. Donna looked him in the eyes  and smiled at him.  
  
The Time Lord did something for himself then, not for the universe. He took that moment out of time, isolating and preserving it, and he savoured it, and he didn’t put it back. He consumed that precious moment…the human woman on the floor of his TARDIS…into his vast and timeless memory.  
  
And then the Doctor waggled an eyebrow, winked puckishly, and gave Donna a dimpled grin.  
  
The Doctor slid a long thin finger inside the silk triangle between Donna’s thighs and twisted into her curls, teasing a few out of hiding. “Ginger,” he murmured. A flood of desire darkened Donna’s knickers to emerald green. The Doctor rubbed and twisted and ground the little piece of silk along her folds, teasingly close to her entrance, and over her clit; it was soaking and rough with just the right amount of Doctor finger friction to make her eyes close. Then the wonderful cold sodden stiff sliding sensation was gone. Then Donna’s eyes flew open.  
  
Donna gasped when he pinched her clit, but his mouth was already covering hers, and the Doctor captured each hum of pleasure his Donna made as his long, cool forefinger strummed the nerve endings of her labia and clitoris. He watched her watching him as he brought his finger to his mouth and slowly licked off the tangy sweetness of her. With a low moaning cry that sounded suspiciously like a Gallifreyan expletive she might have heard someone use on Valentine’s Day, Donna pulled him to her, and the Time Lord felt her little human heart pounding, against him, between the two hearts speeding inside his own chest.  How perfectly they fit, he thought, his Donna and he.  
  
“Donna,” he whispered, then, on a broken voice, “oh my Donna, my Donna.”  
  
“Doctor,” she echoed, “oh my…  
  
“Doctor?” Hang on. Sad. That was sad Doctor, wasn’t it? Why, WHY did he sound like that when she’d never been happier in her life? “Doctor,” Donna whispered desperately against his cheek, suddenly feeling as if she were yelling from a desolate bridge of ice across a wretched, frozen planet. “Doctor, please be happy.”  
  
“But I am!” The Doctor pulled back to give her a huge smile, but he wasn’t quick enough to mask the pain and longing in his eyes, the flash of a childlike terror of the unknown. Or more likely, he being a Time Lord, all the terrors in all the knowing he had to bear. It broke Donna’s heart.  
  
“Sod this!”    Donna yanked the Doctor back by his ears and held on to him, one hand in his hair, another fisting into his shirt, her legs wrapped tight around his.  
  
“Ow, that hurt,” he whinged, his voice somewhat muffled by Donna’s breasts.  
  
“Serves you right, Mister _I’m all alone there’s no one to get close to even if I did deserve it which I don’t so I’m gonna go all melancholy Danish until everyone runs away which they will because I’m always left all alone_ Crap For Brains!” She took a breath and eased her hold on him. “It’s not alien pollen or the Guinness, not an atmospheric inversion, the liqueur in the Belgium chocolate, or the Irish in the Irish stew. It’s you, Doctor! I’ve never been as sure of anything in my life.  I’m sure enough for the both of us!  Prat.”  
  
The Doctor caressed her cheek, but it felt-- "Doctor, don't you want?"  
  
“No, I do! Oh, Donna Noble, how I want!”  
  
“Then what is it?” He hadn’t pulled away when she let him go. She’d felt something between them. In fact, it was still there. She wiggled under him to double-check, and it responded.  
  
“Donna?”  
  
“I just wondered for a moment if maybe you didn’t…”  
  
 “I... can... _dance_... Donna Noble,” the Time Lord growled, almost feral.  
  
“Yeah, so can I, Patrick Swayze. We’ll get to that later, right now you’re going to make me scream.”  
  
The Doctor gave her an amused smile, but his eyes were shuttered. Wise women know when to change the subject. Donna Noble was more than wise.  
  
“Doctor.” Donna yanked an ear and got another “Ow!” and some typically incoherent Doctor rambling about the luck of it not being the other regeneration.  
  
“When you’re with someone you care about with your mind and heart and soul, and their being with you makes you a better you, it’s not important how big IT is or isn’t, or what it looks like, or how differently it works. You ask us to trust you, you inscrutable, dangerous alien, and we do, we always do. I know I’m a lot more scrutable than some skinny Time Lord from beyond the stars, but I can be a hell of a lot more dangerous.” She cupped his cheek. “Please trust this alien.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normally when Donna Noble found herself up against a hostile alien, she expected that the Doctor and she would figure things out together. This time, Donna would be all on her own with the _figuring things out_ part; she wanted the Doctor (who happened to be her current hostile alien) too preoccupied with the _up against_ part to do anything but cry out her name over and over.
> 
> * * *

 

 

 

Chapter 3

 

Normally, when Donna Noble found herself up against a hostile alien, she just expected that the Doctor and she would figure things out. This time, however, Donna planned to be all on her own with the figuring things out part; she wanted the Doctor (who also happened to be her current hostile alien) too preoccupied with the up against part to do anything but cry out her name over and over.

Not like usual. In a good way. A brilliant way.

She kissed the Doctor's lips with more than a bit of tongue appreciation for his soft, sensuous, unusually silent, and yielding mouth.  She tickled the nape of his neck, twisting her fingers through his amazing alien hair.  She sucked that wonderful bit of Time Lord clavicle and sternum that (along with a couple kegs of beer) had started all this. She didn’t try to be as creative as he with the undressing (no patience, no way). Her hands glided under his shirt and over the lean muscles of his shoulders and arms, blithely making short work of the shirt, and roamed down his newly naked chest and abdomen. His underlying musculature was different–different texture, slightly different placement, different feel beneath her caresses. Her long nails skimmed over his back, tickling and teasing, stirring the Doctor’s nerve endings. (He had a nice supply of nerve endings to stir.)  She groped the Doctor’s tight, perfectly shaped and honestly not too skinny bum.

Donna scooted down quickly, kissed a very bony hipbone that protruded above the Doctor’s trousers, then scooted back up. Cupping his cheek with infinite tenderness, she touched her lips to his with barely a breath to disturb them.        
       
Ok. Donna had no bleeding idea where that had come from. From the look on the Doctor’s face when she pulled back from their kiss, neither did he, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Her fingers circled over the Doctor's lower back and worked their way inside his trousers, gliding over the smooth skin of his bum and around his narrow hips.  She explored the Doctor, learning what the alien liked and, to be honest, what he had. (No, she hadn’t peeked when she helped him get back to the TARDIS after the run-in with the Master; and when she was fixing him up, she looked only when it was medically necessary. Cross her heart and…um.)

There wasn’t the customary trail of hair from his navel down, and his groin was hairless and smooth. She stroked the bump of his arousal and, yeah, ok, she took the opportunity to feel up the Doctor. He had a short, relatively thick member of sorts down there. Fondling it, it felt softer and cooler and smaller and suddenly more alien in her hand than it had before, against her body. Around it was a patch of thickened skin.  No, start over.   Just under the surface of the part of the Doctor's groin that surrounded his member, Donna could feel a round patch of firm, dense, tissue.  Or maybe alieny muscle.  The Doctor had no balls.  That didn't sound right. The Doctor didn't have a scrotum. That is to say, there wasn’t one hanging around the neighborhood.

Donna rubbed her fingertips over the Doctor's  rough-smooth groin.   She didn’t know what kind of reaction she’d been expecting, she didn’t know if she got any at first; but when her palm pressed against it, the Doctor kissed the top of her head. (She’d take that as a positive.) She caressed the Doctor’s apparatus, stroking from what really seemed to be a disk in his groin to the end of his short member. The Doctor nibbled her neck and shoulder, murmuring softly and so so tenderly to her.  (Donna hoped it was to her; the TARDIS wasn't translating.)  His long fingers started to do the most lovely things to her breasts and… oh, yeah, there too. She had to say, for a putatively asexual alien who didn’t DO this, he surely knew his way around the THIS he was doing.

Hitching her leg over his hip, she pulled them together. They lay on their sides, fingers stroking face; tongue stroking over tongue and teeth, in and out, in and out. She felt him everywhere, her Doctor, his breath through her hair and his addictive alien fragrance in her head; his lovely chest, cool and naked against her breasts; his wonderful beautiful bony pelvis poking into her stomach; his large hand on her bum, pulling her against him; the scratchy wool and cold metal zipper of his trousers; her center against him, wet and aching. She shifted, centering his member at the apex of her thighs, and squeezed firmly.  Then she inveigled her hand inside his trousers and squeezed his member again. It wiggled. No, definitely not that. It throbbed. Vibrated? Pulsed? Whatever it was, Donna could feel movement–not that IT moved, but movement was part of how it was, waves of motion resonating through the dense ring of tissue into his phallus. No, it definitely was from his phallus into the disk. And back. Tide and riptide. Maybe.

Donna kissed the Doctor and stroked him with a little extra squeeze at the end to keep his mind and his, to keep him occupied while she figured this out. Fondling his member, she definitely felt more than just a… tide and riptide in him. Echoes. And echoes of echoes.  Maybe like his hearts, he had another–?

“Donna! What –”

Donna bit the Doctor’s earlobe and tickled his nipple.

Nope, only one down there. Maybe he kept the other one in a different time or phase than this body, or a different dimension, and the pulsing connected them, or... or something else all science-fictiony?  How would someone find that out?

“Blimey, Donna!"

Donna bit the Doctor’s nipple and tickled his earlobe.

All that motion, and no physical movement as far as she could tell.  As if nothing about the time traveler could ever just be still.

So weird!

Oi, Donna Noble, she told herself, don’t think eew weird, think well yeah of course the Doctor would be different and unique. And confusing. And weird. 

Donna nibbled up the Doctor’s jaw and nipped his earlobe. “An adventure, just like you promised.” The Doctor caught her up and nuzzled into her neck, which sent Donna into a fit of giggles.

She drew the Gallifreyan’s body into a slow rocking dance against hers. Caressing her, he started murmuring again, maybe to her, or maybe to himself, or maybe just because he was the Doctor. After a while, he changed the tempo of their dance. When her body took them into a subtle variation, they played that for a while; then his riffed on it and hers replied. Her nails dug into his shoulders and Donna nipped and sucked at his throat.

The Doctor started to make the most amazing soft, happy noises, rather like purring, but as akin to purring as the echoes of a distant maelstrom are to a spring rain. And she felt him, hard between them. Different hard. Growing firm type hard. Lengthening nicely type hard. Clearly she had an aroused alien in her arms, her Doctor, her alien lover, whose lovely firm, hot (did she mention hard?) alien member was now obviously pulsing. Vibrating? Again Donna told herself not to try to figure out what was going on against her groin, just figure out how to work with it. The disk beneath his skin, around his phallus, also seemed to be firming up with his arousal.  From the feel of him now, Donna thought she might be able to see it pushing out against the surface. Donna’ started to undo the Doctor’s trousers. But his hand stopped hers.

“Donna Noble, I want so much to give you pleasure first.” He started to kiss his way down her body.

Donna got hold of the Doctor’s hair and yanked him back up.

“What IS it with you wanting to grab my head, Donna Noble!”

Donna burst out laughing and the Doctor turned bright red from head to… well, she hadn’t seen the other head. (And she hadn't been able to tell if he had one) He tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him.

“I don’t want you to come down on me… well actually I do, but not the first time. We can go through the Kama Sutra later.” Her hand soothed the Doctor’s scalp then she kissed the spot where she’d yanked him. She kissed her way down his face, ending against his lips as he pulled himself back up to meet her. “I won’t look if you don’t want me to. But I want to make love with you. I’ll take whatever you are willing to give me now, but it has to be us, the spaceman and the Earth girl, the Doctor and Donna.”

She held him for the sheer joy of it as much as to keep him from scarpering, She covered his throat with wet kisses, luxuriating in his enveloping scent. One hand caressed the sensitive spots she’d discovered on his neck, shoulder, and back. His fingers played over her body in a visceral reaction that thrilled Donna.  She’d broken through the barriers his Time Lord brain had put up!

Donna worked him in sync with the pulsing of his member. She figured she was probably doing something right when the Doctor made a noise that started as a contented sigh and turned into a deep moan, nibbled her ear, and pinched her clit. When she worked him a little out of phase with his rhythm, he gnawed her shoulder, groaning and sighing into her hair. She pressed her palm against the dense ring encircling his member, wrapped her other hand around him, and let the contradicting resonance she sensed through her hands, this strange two way movement that was and wasn’t, control her pressure on him. The Doctor mumbled in a language she recognized as Gallifreyan, but the TARDIS didn’t translate.

Donna varied her pressure and rhythm, and even her body’s positions, until she found a combination that had the Doctor firming and lengthening very nicely. (Donna’s body was pleased with his progress as well.) The pulsing vibrations felt stronger.

A warm sweat broke out on the Doctor’s neck and chest, and his heartsbeat hiccupped.  Donna was about to ask him if he was ok when he gave a loud, pained groan. Suddenly his member was gone!

Oh god, she’d broken the Doctor!

 

 

 

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=45720>


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I should have known that my superior Time Lord body could resist you not even half as long as my superior Time Lord mind."  
> "What a TARDIS load of blarney!"  
> "Is it working?"  
> "No."
> 
> * * *

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

 

“That’s a perfectly natural reaction for a Gallifreyan man, Donna,” the Doctor wheezed, before his respiratory bypass kicked in.

She slugged him. “Coulda told me, spaceman, before I had a stroke!”

The Doctor grabbed hold of Donna’s fist.  She was badly shaken, but she was Donna Noble; she slugged him with the other one.

“What else should I have been told, eh? You can babble on forever about living fat and Sontarans and Charles Dickens and dogs with no noses, oh you’re so good with the blarney, but you can’t be bothered to mention that you make the same dying llama noises whether you’re being skinned alive or getting shagged!”

“I… what? I do NOT sound like a dying llama!”

“You bloody wanker!”  

Donna slugged him again.  He rolled her onto her back, covered her body with his, took her face between his hands, and shut her up with his tongue.  

“Listen!” he finally said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to get carried away like that. I underestimated you, Donna Noble. I should have known that my superior Time Lord body could resist you not even half as long as my superior Time Lord mind.”

“What a TARDIS load of blarney!”

“Is it working?”

“No.”

That little smile that Donna was very unsuccessfully trying to stop  told him rather a lot. “What you felt was, to use Earth English analogy, my penis and scrotum. Evolution put all our reproductive and sex organs inside, where they are safely stored until we need them. However, when it is necessary to win the girl or keep her happy, we are equally able to, ah, display. Unlike your Earth men, who impair the production of effective sperm from the start by overheating them in scrotums with a low surface-to-volume ratio, and stuff themselves painfully into tight denim, or walk around with semi-permanent hard-ons.“

“What does a Time Lord know about hard-ons?”

“You’d be surprised, Donna Noble.”

“I’d better be, stud, after what you’ve put me through. What else?”

“I can wear jeans as tight as I like without any physical distress.”

“Will I get to see?”

“Not this go-round. Thanks to biological engineering, Time Lords were no longer slaves to pheromones, hormones, and wickedly beautiful, brilliant, mouthy redheads; but anatomically capable of hanging well when a good reason presented itself, such as the aforementioned wickedly beautiful--”

“Yeah, yeah, get on with it, blarney boy.”

“Oi! That’s **_Doctor_** Blarney, if you don’t mind.”

He gave Donna a wink and a grin, and Donna decided that if she ever became Empress of the Universe, the first thing she would do is have those dimples regulated as a controlled substance.

“And of course once we started looming.”

“Looming?”

“Later. Getting back to the Gallifreyan biology lecture...”

_“Cliffs Notes_ version please, I’m trying to cram here.”

The Doctor  smiled against Donna’s throat.  She tipped his chin up and kissed him.  It was so tender and so loving that the Time Lord almost broke. “ _Cliffs_ _Notes_ ,” he said after a moment, “Time Ladies: couldn’t find the time. Time Lords: too full of themselves to fill anyone else. Gallifreyan children: loomed. Sex organs: unused, but evolutionarily essential to the species; ergo: not fade away.”

“Oooh, I love that song!”

“Me too. End of lecture,  _Cliffs Notes_ version.  Lab section to follow.”

 

**~~~~~**

 

“I am in awe of you, Donna Noble,” the Doctor said as he covered her face with kisses, “the way you trust me.”   He growled against the Earth woman’s ear, “The things you do to me, love."  He slid his tongue along the shell of her ear and bit her earlobe. “Let me make you happy,” he whispered into Donna’s thick ginger waves, against the nape of her neck. He blew softly across Donna’s lips, and as they sighed apart, his tongue pushed between them. The Doctor tasted Donna, hungrily and thoroughly. He whispered to her in his native Gallifreyan, sending another mental shout-out to the TARDIS not to translate, then chuckled darkly. Then his articulate and unstoppable mouth continued in monologue to the rest of Donna Noble’s sweet sexy body.

He alternated Gallifreyan love sonnets and Vogon drinking songs down Donna’s torso, around her hips and lower back and bum. He disproved five irrefutable proofs of the impossibility of time travel on one arm and amended Heidegger’s _Being and Time_ to account for, well, him down the other. He ringed her right leg with π to as many significant decimal places as he could fit, got bored and erased it (to much writhing and giggling and moaning), replacing it with her galaxy’s most tasteless limericks (Jack Harkness figured in seven per cent of them). Filling up her left leg, hip to toes, he told Donna Noble in splendid and unabridged detail everything that her rubbing her toe ring across his cock had made him want to do to her.

The Doctor crawled back up Donna Noble’s body and settled into the place between her thighs that he already thought of as **_MINE_**. He licked a circle around her right breast and flicked the tip of his tongue over the ginger nub standing tall at its peak. His Donna moaned beautifully. Her left nipple looked a little sulky, then, and the Doctor couldn’t have that; so he rolled it between a thumb and finger, lathed his tongue over it, then sucked it with such force that Donna shrieked. He pulled up to grin at her, half expecting a slap. Instead she grabbed him by the ears, yanked him to her, stuck her tongue down his throat, apparently trying to eat his tonsils (Gallifreyans don’t have tonsils.), then pushed his face back to her breast.

He suckled Donna’s left breast relentlessly, kneading her right breast and pinching the nipple. A long finger slid through the wet, slippery petals of her labia, entering her gently. As he learned her, he added a second. He slid them out until just his fingertips were inside her, and stroked a slow circle, exciting the nerve endings around the entrance to her center and inside her. His fingers pushed inside again, deep; slid out and circled her; then in and deeper.

His Donna was crying softly by the time he added a third finger and a little more pressure. When she started shaking out of control, twisting her fingers in his hair, he became concerned; until he heard her sobbing, _My Doctor, Oh, My Doctor,_ softly and so full of, well full of a human emotion that a Time Lord brain shouldn’t comprehend. An emotion shot through him that he was also certain a Time Lord shouldn’t comprehend, let alone feel as strongly as he did. He thrust his fingers into her to the knuckles and twisted his hand, and did something with spatio-temporal contiguity and his thumb that proved what a very very clever, dissentient Time Lord the Doctor still was. Something deep in Donna’s center spasmed so violently that it spawned a pair of white dwarf stars, which fed on each other and went supernova through her, body and heart, ripping Donna Noble into million-hued quanta of ecstasy.

~

The Doctor stroked Donna’s damp hair back off her face and held her, kissing her and whispering Gallifreyan poetry against her neck until she landed.

 

~~~~~

 

Her hand was cupped in the Doctor’s, roaming his naked stomach and abdomen.  In the moment  they reached his trousers, which were unzipped and open but still covering his genitals, the Doctor's breath changed.  Donna felt it and heard it and would have pulled back, but he slid their hands inside without pause. He brushed Donna's fingers over his hips and pelvis, telling her where the nerve endings were particularly sensitive to erotic touch.  At the join of his thighs, he entwined her fingers with his, and he taught her the feel of him.  They moved over the surface of the thick disk-like organ and the erect phallus it surrounded.  The texture of the organ was so much more subtle than just the thick patchy bank of skin she had thought it was.  His member was humanoid in shape but definitely that of an alien.  Though thoroughly fascinated, Donna concentrated more on the way the Doctor moved their fingers and the sounds of pleasure that vibrated somewhere deep in the Gallifreyan’s chest as he did.  

 “You have a wonderful touch, Donna,” the Doctor sighed, “very light yet, oh, so very arousing.”

Donna varied the pressure as he moved their fingers around him, listening for changes in his reaction. She scraped her nails across him. His breath hitched, and his phallus sort of jumped. “Doctor, was that ok?”

The Doctor kissed the top of Donna’s head and then her lips. “Oh, yes,” he breathed, “brilliant.”

Encouraged, Donna pulled her hand out of his, determined to get it right on her own. She scraped a fingernail around the outside edge of the tissue band with enough pressure to get another hitched breath out of him, then a long sigh of growing arousal. She corkscrewed her finger in, toward his member, and back out.  Slowly.

The Doctor moaned, and his hands reflexively squeezed into her. She repeated her actions using the pads of two fingers, varying the pressure, speed, pattern, and such. Donna felt his hearts speed up, and at one point, the Doctor shouted out. He didn’t ask her to stop, though, so she didn’t. The echoing ripples of motion within his apparatus  became much more apparent as she played with him, and his body juddered. Even his hearts were affected: one beat just a little bit faster, shivering ahead, out of sync (Or maybe the other slowed; she couldn’t tell). The Doctor mumbled in Gallifreyan and clamped his teeth down on her shoulder. Donna decided what she was doing was a good thing, a not breaking the Doctor thing, and she would do it with him as often as he’d let her. There was a soundless humming in Donna’s head telling her, though not in words, that the Doctor was  feeling very free to be happy, experiencing physical pleasure, rather likely in love though he’d never admit it, and quite as horny as any human ape.

Now that she wasn’t freaked out by it, she really liked this ebb and flow riptide thing he had going through his apparatus. Although it was still very weird, it also felt comforting in a way, as if she was part of him, or he was part of her, and she was traveling through him, on his heartsbeat.  Or he through her, on hers-- heartbeat, on her heartbeat. They were traveling through each other, on each other’s heartsbeats. How friggin’ hot was that!

“When a Gallifreyan man is excited, both his member and his testicular ring engorge,” the Doctor whispered between searing kisses, “and this Gallifreyan is very excited, Donna Noble.  By the way, although my testicles are active--"  He gave a rather short-of-breath chuckle.  "--something we both were surprised to discover,  I promise you I will not impregnate you.  
   
"But not cannot."

"Cannot not... What?"  he asked, confused.

"I mean.. . how else do we differ?  You don't have dangly balls. What about Gallifreyan women?"

"No dangly balls either."

"Doctor!"

“Well, the vulvas of Gallifreyan women contained no external erectile tissue.”

“Your women didn’t have clits?”

“Oi!” The Doctor raised himself to look down at human woman. “We men got the job done!” he whinged. “They also had clitoral bulbs.”

And there was that deep, dangerous Oncoming Storm voice and look: “You will not find yourself frustrated, Donna Noble.”

Donna thought she might orgasm right then and there.

“Because of the differences between humans and Gallifreyans, the…choreography… of our respective dances differs.” The Doctor pushed her legs apart with his hands and pressed what felt like a double-jointed knee against her, letting it spread her further.   Donna let out a surprised squeak. “Sorry, another anatomical difference. Let me know if it becomes uncomfortable, and we’ll figure out something else.”

“But you want?”

“I want, love. Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, Donna Noble, our _pas de deu_ _x_ is going to be such a brilliant adventure!” The Doctor kissed Donna quickly and pushed in.

 

 

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=45720>


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Be adventurous, Donna Noble," the Doctor purred darkly, "be my Donna."
> 
> * * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

  
First there was giddy joy. _He's in me! Loving me! Shagging me!_

Then a major freak-out. _Should I pull him closer? Should I wrap my legs around him? Will I hurt him if I do it wrong? Maybe I shouldn't move at all? Should I? Will I? whatifIhowshouldIpleasewhatcanI???_

Then earth-moving, mind-blowing, knickers-drenching pleasure. Or not.   Every nerve ending in Donna's skin screamed for the Doctor to shag her into next week; but (to be honest with herself) that part of him that that part of her could actually feel felt a little like a vibrator that was too thick and a bit misshapen. Donna's body was aroused, confused, and uncomfortable. So much for her _ravaged by an alien_ fantasy.

“It really is ok to touch me Donna Noble,” the Doctor murmured into her ear, and followed it up with a little nip.

“I know.”

“I trust you.” Another nip, on her neck, not so little. “Be adventurous, Donna Noble,” the Doctor purred darkly, “be my Donna.”

The Doctor's lips caught Donna's in a light tender kiss that quickly became firm but not demanding.  He kissed her cheekbones, her jaw, then slowly kissed his way down her throat and across her breastbones.  He raked his teeth along each silky shoulder. Tangling his fingers through her hair, he pulled her heavy waves back from her face, licked around the shell of her ear and teased it, first with heated breath then with cool.  Donna shivered against him. His tongue swathed one of Donna's rose-petal-smooth breasts, following her voluptuous curves with slow thoroughness. The tip of his tongue slowly spiraled over her areola, and he licked and sucked the little treasure waiting for him in the center. Then he did it to her other breast, slowly. His fingertips ghosted down her sides and circled over her hips and bum. He pinched her clitoris. _Slowly_.

With a hungry growl, Donna pulled the Doctor off her bosom and took over.

Donna Noble nibbled the Doctor's chin and jaw, swirled her tongue along his throat, nipping at his Adam’s apple, and kissed that delicious spot he always kept hidden beneath tie and buttoned-up top buttons   She sucked one of his nipples into her mouth, drawing it in with so much suction that she felt it between her eyes and in her groin, and the Doctor actually whimpered. Her tongue whispered over his lips. Swallowing a _cat that got the cream_ smile _,_ the Doctor parted his lips to Donna's light tickling torture, and when her tongue pushed inside to taste his, his was ready.

The Doctor closed his eyes and let the pleasure of Donna Noble’s touch, so sensual, so arousing, run through him. Donna's fingers through his hair, pulling gently, and then not so gently. Donna's warm breath across his lips, barely touching, as her nails scratched along his scalp, exciting such disparate responses in his tactile nerve endings that he wanted to roar and fight for territory. Her long nails skimmed along the shells of his ears, etching light circles through the hairs standing to attention along the nape of his neck _(Oh, so good!),_ scratching across his shoulder blades. Teasing fingertips pinched down his chest and, oh Rassilon! his groin clenched and he shivered as Donna licked a particularly responsive patch on his chest. Another shiver jerked his pelvis against hers. He shuddered and moaned; it had been so long and he wondered if he'd ever be able to stop. Donna felt it through the Doctor's body and then through hers, and contracted around him. Someone gasped; someone writhed. Someone got a nipple pinched. Donna’s wicked, wonderful nails again, lightly scratching curlicues on his thigh, barely touching the sensitive flesh but wandering close enough to where he was joined to her to stimulate.  Close enough to drive him crazy. That’s his Donna! The Doctor gasped.

And Donna gasped.  She pushed the Doctor's head up to look into his eyes.  “You’re...we’re… you…”

The Doctor grinned down at her, all dimpled cheeks and chin, eyes dark and sparkling, so very very beautiful. He said something in Gallifreyan that the TARDIS translated as "This is our dance, Donna Noble" and winked. Donna was absolutely sure that the TARDIS was smirking.

The Doctor's mouth took hers, this time, and his tongue slipped inside.  Donna felt the Doctor’s hands around her hips, moving her in small slow arcs and shallow thrusts around his languidly rocking pelvis. She was so wet with passion for this alien. As if he knew this, he hummed happily. His rhythm shifted slightly. Donna suddenly felt even wetter; it was cold and thick, and she knew this must be from him. As his swollen testicular ring rocked over her perimeter, the engorged organ slid easily through the slick evidence of their mutual desire, over and between her folds. It nudged insistently against her perimeter; and it was so thick and so dense, and Donna was so sensitive now, that she felt it entirely, part way in her and part way out. But that felt so right, so right!  It was pulsing; throbbing. She felt it growing, against her and inside her.

Donna gasped and writhed against the Doctor, moaned. "Oh yes, right there, keep pushing out down there.. doing THAT there!" He was slick, so slick and firm and lovely and--oh, she felt him... and there was a lot of him.  His engorging member pushed deeper, deeper..."Deeper is good, Doctor; oh yes, very good!" The Doctor laughed and said something. The TARDIS didn't translate, but Donna had her own translation, in his smiling eyes and mouth, his unlined face, concentrating but not serious, his rhythmic grunts and groans. His tenderly demanding lips and... _Oooh, those teeth and...Oh God that tongue! That mouth!_ Donna squealed. Her Time Lord was a bendy one!

Donna's hands roamed the Doctor's lovely body; scraped across wiry muscles and jutting angles, pinched his bum and the backs of his thighs, yanked his head up by those teeny ears to get her mouth access to his throat and chest.  She nipped and licked, savouring the slick sweet cocktail of their arousal and sweat with its Doctor-flavoured kick. (Blimey, if anyone had tried to tell her before today that something tasted so much better than New New Belgium chocolate!) 

She could feel that weird (No, alien, Gallifreyan) that Gallifreyan pulsation through– in? of?–the Doctor’s Gallifreyan member. Donna imagined his double pulse echoing through his blood, rushing the blood throughout his body loud enough to hear and forceful enough to feel.  She sensed them as clearly as her own, and she wished she could change her pulses, no, pulse (there was only one, wasn't there) to match his, feel his heartsbeats in her chest; she wanted to echo his echoes, she wanted...

Donna wanted.

She was panting (but so was he). Her clit was throbbing and her folds-- major and minor, every single one, count them ( _Ohmygod! was that what that finger was doing down there?_ )-- her folds couldn't stop shivering and shuddering like the walls of some wind-buffeted tent because this sheik from the stars had plugged in his gigantic friggin' science fiction turbine fan, and it was pulsating against her and in her, and the sparks of his alien motor against her walls could just burn the whole bleeding TARDIS down.

Hunger pulsed throughout Donna’s body in insistent waves that hammered her unbelievably sensitive insides and bumped against those other tightly spinning bands of pleasure— the orangey-red and fuchsia ones (That was how she felt them down there; her brain didn’t get a vote) —creating _oh blimey!_ creating more bands… spinning, spiking, twisting… whirlwinds of white screaming sensation! (Pillars of fire sounded too biblical, but dear god they were taking her to the promised land!)  And all this sensation—ALL THIS!—from the strange inhuman (no, nonhuman, alien, Gallifreyan) rhythmical pulsing of the Doctor’s phallus, radiating out, reflecting off, refracting through, she didn’t know, she never paid attention in physics class and she didn’t give a damn now except that it was also rhythmically pummeling that spot the books said didn't exist in a way that was making it sing!

The image of the TARDIS’s time rotor came into her head, its central core pounding out its temporal rhythms as the eddies of its powers raged and danced her alien lover through space and time. _Wait!  Could THAT be the other_ —

A chorus of chiming left a tickled and loving rebuke in Donna Noble’s mind, though not so much in words, No, we’re not connected like that. It’s all our Time Lord, Donna.

The Doctor grew in her, widening. Or thickening. Maybe lengthening. Donna couldn't tell and she didn’t care and she vowed to stop trying to find words to describe it to herself. Whatever he was doing, whatever he was doing it with was filling her, fitting itself to her; and the way she felt down there, she thought she must be molding herself to him as well. She had been sure this Gallifreyan dance of his had attached them to each other. Yet she would swear that he was pistoning into her as well, somehow, a driving erotic assault on every over-sensitized, slick and hot  and swollen, walls-of-Jericho millimeter, and all her nerves screamed _moremoremore!_  

Again that feeling of certain parts of her adjusting themselves around certain parts of him.  She gaspedmoanedsighedwhimperedmoaned, taken over by the impossible feeling of her insides being totally fused to the Doctor's member even as his member was thundering inside her with a will, pistoning ( _Was that even a word? It bloody well should be_ ), oncoming storming, pounding her into Heaven.

The Doctor led their Gallifreyan dance, but Donna Noble was no passive partner.  She met him step for step, her body’s natural response a driving human rock 'n roll backbeat to his alien rhythm, exciting something unique between human and Gallifreyan and uniquely them, Donna and the Doctor.  Their conscious minds didn’t know it yet, but their bodies did.  

Donna didn’t have words to wrap around her feelings. The Doctor in a taffy-stretching moment of left-brain lucidity scanned the millions of languages he knew, came up with something Doctory. “Molto bene!” he shouted. Then his right brain took over.   

A thunderhead of wordless passions rumbled through Donna. (She would have said they were his, come from low over some horizon, but dammit she was his horizon!) Charcoal and black and brown–the exact brown of his eyes–and blue like she’d never seen blue before, grey and green and indigo.  

Their bodies edged apart–though they were totally and bodily connected; then they crashed back together–without colliding.  Being impossible couldn’t stop it from being the very physical essence of ecstasy. Donna Noble was absolutely speechless. Maybe. Maybe some of those grunts and shouts and oaths were hers.

The Doctor’s engorging member found a deeper part of Donna's core. His testicular ring and her perimeter, like hammerstone and firestone, sparked and ignited. Donna's toes curled. Desire exploded through her groin, into her stomach, blew out her larynx and short-circuited her visual cortex and when did someone materialize a fully functioning TARDIS-sized clit into her body? Donna cried out because she couldn’t not. The fingers that cut into her Doctor's bum were beyond her control. Legs around his calves, so straight her muscles were shaking, pulled his legs wider as she arched up to rub against him, hard. Harder.  (And her toes wouldn’t uncurl.) Digging his knees into the mattress, his hand beneath her bum like a vise clamping them together, he rotated his pelvis, pressing and grinding into her passion-swollen tissue and hair-trigger nerves.  And he kissed her–kissed her not like the Doctor her best friend, all childlike and sincere and thrilled they were still alive yada yada; but like an alien who had kept nine hundred years of experience hidden under a three-piece suit and tie, good behaviour and stupid rules and was finally getting down and dirty, full of fire and hunger and undenied need and quite a lot of tongue. His kiss was hard and demanding, and it was bruising. His kiss was just this side of feral. His kiss was very very hot. _Oh, spaceman, it's about bloody time!_

Every nerve ending in the Time Lord’s body had learned every one of the woman’s; but when he brushed the rough pad of his thumb across Donna's swollen nipple, the sensations transmitted through his neural net were almost unbearable. (Are you helping her, he asked his TARDIS. Are we connecting through you?  No, the TARDIS was innocent. And not surprised; Donna always understood this him better than the Time Lord understood himself.  His Donna had gotten it on her own!  She was not just brilliant; she was wicked intuitive!) 

He scraped his nails across Donna Noble’s erect little ginger nubs. She cried out and writhed against him. He ground into her with a long feral moan. Donna contracted around him so hard that his hips jerked forward, cracking his pelvis against her, pushing his phallus so deep he hit her womb. Donna grunted at the impact. The Gallifreyan with the respiratory bypass system couldn’t catch his breath, but it was wonderful! Still, not very Time Lordy of him. ( _Time Lordy?)_ The Doctor felt another, sudden, rush of wetness. His lubrication? Hers? (Screw the scientific analysis, the TARDIS bitched at the Time Lord. Get the two of you off.)

“Donna!” the Doctor gasped, “wait!”

“No, Doctor! Oh, please no!” But now that magic scrotum of his was gone, and then the rest of his apparatus, and Donna wanted to cry because the feeling of being glued/fused/stapled/sonicked to the Doctor on the inside disappeared.  But the way he was lying on her, at least she still felt the weight and pressure of that splendid disk against her folds. The pulsing was quicker now, just like his heartsbeats.

The Doctor’s heartsbeats- Donna needed to hear them.  She needed to feel them, tide and riptide, through the place of, of.. some place she’d found (in herself or in him, she wasn’t too clear on that) or made in herself (or made herself into; again, not so clear.) She squeezed her legs around the Doctor and thought to tell him something about a place of sensory potential.  

“I know humans like to move in counterpoint,” the Doctor said, unwrapping her legs. She wanted to tell him to shut up. She wanted to tell him this human likes it the way you've been doing it. (And she wanted to try out this sensory potential thing.) He raised her hips, opening her wider, and thrust deep; then pulled out; and then _omygod_ deeper, filling her–though she’d thought she’d been filled before, now there was so much more of him, his hard grinding thrusting phallus like blue bolts of hard electricity, pounding through bands of exploding colours, and he kept thrusting harder and deeper (somehow) and Donna knew she was crying and grunting, and maybe he was too, and panting harder than when they were running for their lives and it really was a nice change of pace. A big rough thumb ground into her clit and a galaxy exploded. The berk gave her a wicked laugh. She ground against him and rolled herself around his member, then she grinned and did that thing he’d shown her–with a variation of her own that was bloody inspired if she did say so herself.

The Doctor shouted out in Gallifreyan as a current of searing electric passion raced through his member and testicular ring. A gland he’d long forgotten Gallifreyan men even had released a hormone-adrenaline cocktail. His limbic system went sideways. His neural net lit up like a Christmas tree, sending this body a message it never heard before, and his respiratory bypass system bypassed oxygen to everywhere but his groin. Another, more powerful shock of passion followed the first. He barely held himself together; he wouldn't if Donna did that again.  He slid out of Donna Noble and sat back on his knees.

Donna started to give him her _Are you kidding me?_ look, but she was stopped cold. The Doctor was staring down at her. Lips set, face a mask, eyes blacker than space and deeper than forever, and nonhuman, totally nonhuman.

 

~*~

The Time Lord looked down at Donna Noble. She had materialized into his TARDIS, which was unprecedented if not cosmologically impossible. She'd rammed through his emotional fortifications and made him happy, which he had thought totally impossible. She'd given him one hell of a hard-on and was about to get him off, which was brilliant… fantastic… and definitely reversed the polarity of his… aw, he didn’t have time for nostalgia.

~*~

 

He massaged pressure points and nerve endings on Donna's pelvis, groin, and legs. Pushing her legs wide apart, he pulled her body up onto this lap, his knees under her bum, wrapped her legs around his shoulders, and pushed back inside her. He held her, Donna’s breasts pressed against his chest, her bum and back cradled tightly within his powerful arms, a hand tangled gently and lovingly in her luxurious ginger locks.  He caressed her. Donna’s arms wrapped around his neck. She burrowed her face into the hollow of his neck and kissed and sucked him to the rhythms of his pulses, following them as they varied.  He kissed the top of her head and gently lay them back on the bed, Donna on her back beneath him and around him, between his hearts and in them. He arched back to look into her eyes.

Donna Noble's eyes searched those of the alien looking down at her. Eternity watched her; black, endless and empty. (Maybe not so empty? Donna looked deeper. Full; maybe too full.)  Eternity blinked at her. Eternity smiled and dimpled-- and how disconcerting was that!  Eternity winked at her.

Then her Doctor’s lips were on hers, moving over her jaw and throat, her breasts.  

The Doctor wrapped his senses around Donna, feasting on the heat of her arousal, her sweat and musk, on her strength and compassion–on the _Donnaness_ of her.

Donna felt the Doctor's altered heartsbeats in the throbbing of her clitoris and labia and the grasping, hungry walls that embraced his member. She felt them through her skin and her blood, throughout her body. His heartsbeats were part of her; or she was part of them, the Doctor's rhythm. So when were they getting to this place of, of...  She had an idea. She changed the angle of her hips to him just so, expecting to feel her core pieces and his Gallifreyan apparatus to do that funky thing, so she was not surprised when he slammed into her but didn't, his penis and testicular ring molded themselves against her space and filled in her shape, and her body’s insides adjusted to the shapes and spaces that were his.  Their bodies seemed to lock, all their nerves connected in one enormous endlessly looping circle of racing, raging sensation. (Was there a letter or symbol or phrase in his curlicue Gallifreyan alphabet that meant  _Oh holy shit!_?) It was as if a living circuit closed, and it was more alive now and, and … 

The first time Donna Noble tried to get her mind around it [much later], she thought how trite it was, and she’d never on her life repeat it to the Doctor; but she had felt her lungs and his breathe together, and their hearts beat together, and they exploded together in one single orgasm.

The next time Donna Noble tried to understand it [again, much much later], she thought it was as if he’d taken her hand–only his hand WAS her hand–and yelled for them to run and they ran, but not as such.   

There was of course the wild, amazing, alien sex side of her adventure with the Doctor; with danger, just as he'd promised, and trouble, just as he'd promised.  Trouble had never been so hot and so sexy and so impossible to resist.  Donna Noble wouldn’t tell her Doctor that; his head was big enough. Speaking of which, she'd finally found something that rivaled his mouth.  Speaking of which.

 

~*~

 

Oh, his brilliant Donna Noble!  He had no doubt she’d been responsible for their astringing.  Of course he'd gotten them into the physical congruency that began it.  This nine hundred year old was still smokin', oh yes!  His testicular ring had brilliantly excited all of the nerve endings near the surface of Donna's labia, through the vestibular bulbs and the other sub-areas of her clitoris. His member had accomplished what Gallifreyan erectile sex organs were made to do.  And it did what humanoid erectile… what cocks... yes.  His his cock... sonicked?  No. Nailed? Yes! He **nailed HIS woman** right through the mattress into the bleeding floor of the TARDIS!

He supposed he could have explained the mechanics of human/Gallifreyan intercourse and its various theoretically possible orgasmic manifestations to Donna earlier, once he’d realized the extent of their physical and transcendent compatibility...that is to say, once he'd realized how thoroughly she turned him on. (Good phrase, very evocative! Also very literal.)  But Donna had asked for the Cliffs Notes. Besides his Donna was always one for a good surprise.

The Time Lord twisted the time lines around themselves. If one were looking around the skin of the time vortex from the outside, which of course could not be done, one would experience time flowing paradoxically around [a] null.

His consciousness isolated the purloined spatio-temporal arc. He savoured it, this treasure, his miracle, that precious moment…the human woman on the floor of his TARDIS. The Lord of Time smiled. (He might have grinned.  Regardless of what the TARDIS said, he most definitely did not purr.) Then he put the time segment safely back into his vast and timeless memory, assuring it would last him beyond this body.  

He made time flow again.  And then he cleverly used it- quite a lot of it, actually - to literalize more evocative human idioms with his Donna.

 ~*~

 

 

**~~~~~**

  

The Doctor still couldn’t say what had surprised him more. That Donna could bring him to climax, or the way she had. Not since… he’d never thought he’d… how had they… WHEN was she going to wake up so they could do it again? (Rassilon, surely those first times weren’t just a fluke?)

Wasn’t that a whatchamacallit on the floor over there? He should pick it up before it, ah, broke. It wouldn’t disturb his Donna if he very gently unwrapped their bodies; taking great care, of course, when he slid his knee out from between her thighs not to annoy her clit; and when he let go her breast, not to scrape a fingernail across her little ginger nipple. And when he crawled over her (which he would have to do, because the floor would creak very loudly if he got off the bed on his side and walked all the way around), he would definitely make very certain not to let the hard evidence that humans wasted too much time sleeping awaken her.

 

**~~~~~**

 

The emerald toe ring landed against Donna Noble’s taut nipple and slid on her areola. She shivered from the impact of the cool metal band. It slid down her breast and fell off.

“Bugger!” the Doctor said, “That makes five for eight.”

“Makes naught for eight, actually,” Donna said, picking up the toe ring and flinging it over to her crazy alien lover, who lounged handsomely and mostly naked in a comfy chair he’d pulled up against the other side of their new, very large, very comfortable bed, his long gorgeous legs casually crossed; his sexy feet smooshing down into their pillows; the sketch pad and charcoal forgotten on his lap. “If you’re always this good at maths and spatial geometry, it’s no wonder we never land where you want.”

“Malign my geometrical abilities all you like, Donna Noble.”  Her Doctor's dark eyes sauntered down her body and back up, lingering  at her painted toe nails and just above her midway point. "We both know how much my special spatial geometrical abilities impress you”

Donna shivered from bangs to said painted toenails. Her toe ring came flying through the air at her and made a perfect landing with her nipple dead center.  The Doctor shouted in Gallifreyan and grinned. “And extra points for the added difficulty!”

“You did that on purpose, spaceman!”

“If you want,” her spaceman said, “I’ll show you what it’s like when the woman is on top.”

“Different?”

“Oh, yes.” He joined Donna on the bed, dipping to nibble her fourth rib and pinch her mug of tea  from the side  table. (When you do it in the Vortex, Time Stands Still — a present from the TARDIS).  

“Ah,” Donna said rolling up to tease her nails through the hairs on his beautiful alien-muscled chest. “Like falling off a scaffolding.”

“No.” The Doctor grabbed Donna Noble’s hand, brought it to his mouth, and nibbled on her fingers. “More like walking down an aisle next to your mum and ending up in a little blue box that isn’t, heading to anywhere that might be.”

Donna was already dripping for him (again) and she knew from the evil look in her Doctor’s eyes that he could sense it. ”I guess in that case...” She pushed the Doctor down onto the pillow and straddled his chest. Without looking back, she slid his satin sleep shorts down far enough that he could finish the job. As she kissed him--starting at his lovely naked clavicles, then into the warm Doctor-fragranced hollow of his throat, finally working her way up to his mouth--he cupped her breasts and played with the taut ginger nipples. When they broke away, the Doctor was licking his lips like a little Time Boy savouring his first taste of banana popsicle. “Aw, go on, then!” She lay over him, covering him, and he gave her a lick and a nibble. “I’ll take the high road,” she giggled more than sang, nipping at his ear.

The Doctor teased his fingers over his Donna’s delectable body. "And I’ll take the low road,” he sang, wrapping his strong hands around her hips, raising her up, and thrusting up off the bed.

 

**~~~~~**

 

 

* * *

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